Bleeding Heart
by SlashMyDreams
Summary: "When did you last eat?" The boy did not reply. He was putting the gloves on, his eyes still fixed on Kai, tensely, as though at any moment Kai would reach out and snatch them back.


He nearly walked past.

Later as she slept he would tell himself that it had been wet and cold – for nowadays the latter seemed to seep through to his very bones, though he wore more layers than anybody he knew – that he was late and Gerda would worry. But random kindness did not come naturally to him, though whether he had simply not been born good or whether it had been frozen out of him he did not know. Gerda, meanwhile, would reach into her purse for every beggar.

At night he still, years later, lay awake and wondered at her having chosen him, for as the robber girl had said, he did not deserve all that Gerda had done for him, and turn over at the thought to know that she was there. And what, compared to her joy, was his writing growing steadily smaller to preserve paper, or that his colleagues thought him somewhat aloof, for Kai would never join in their gambling. But neither of their jobs paid well, and he himself had fewer students than last year, for the Prussians had taken them all. And the pure pleasure that she exuded in helping people warmed him as well. He could deny her nothing; he could not bring himself to ask her to do less so that they themselves would have more.

But he had turned his head as he passed, and there was a boy there, huddled in the doorway of the bookshop. He would be chased off by morning, Kai knew, for the owner cared most for profit, it was said. So he took a deep breath to steady himself, for he could not rid himself of this nervousness around people, that they would know, somehow, the people whom Gerda loved so freely, how little he deserved her and what he had done, and stepped towards him.

The boy did not look up.

His outstretched hand was red and raw, and he did not react at first when Kai came to stand before him, until he had taken off his gloves and placed them atop the boy's hand; not, he had to admit, without some regret, for the wind was biting. But the boy's coat was dripping onto the pavement, and he was shivering. When he looked up, his face was grey. There was a fresh scar across his left cheek, and deep shadows under his eyes, his cheekbones too sharp to be healthy.

Kai shuddered. On their journey back, he had made the mistake of looking in a half-melted river, and the reflection which had greeted him then did not differ greatly from the sight before him now.

On an impulse, he said, "When did you last eat?"

The boy did not reply. He was putting the gloves on, his eyes still fixed on Kai, tensely, as though at any moment Kai would reach out and snatch them back.

"It's predicted to be an especially cold week, and you look pretty frozen already. My house is warm, and we will feed you."

"I don't – " began the boy, and stopped to sneeze, once, twice, and yet again.

Kai hesitated, and added, softer, "Someone did that for me once, when I had done nothing to deserve it."

The boy gazed at him for a long tense moment, sneezed again, then gaze a stiff nod, standing up. "But I don't do that, understand?"

Kai, having no idea what he meant, nodded nevertheless, and asked for his name.

"Hans," came the reply with a tilt of the chin. A German name and a boy who still clung to pride; no wonder he looked so ill. How awful it was for the innocent involved, Gerda would say, who had carried food to the nearby hospitals every day during the war, when the rich made war.

"I'm Kai," he said by way of reply, and during the rest of the walk endeavoured to involve Hans in conversation, but the latter kept twisting his head around to look alternately at the streets they passed or up at Kai himself, and gave answers as short as he could.

It did not take them long to walk home, for there were few people still on the streets, but Kai felt every step drag. Surely people were looking, wondering why he did not take more care of his son, or thought him a gullible fool perhaps.

They had lived together properly for a few years, had lived almost so for many prior to that, with a short interval, but coming home was still a joy, to see Gerda still made his heart sing. She sat by the fire, curled up with a book as was her wont, but she put it aside readily when he came in, and frowned at his reddened hands, cold when she touched them, even as she leaned forward to kiss him. Then, over his shoulder, she must have seen Hans, for she drew back, and stepped around him.

"This is Hans," he found himself saying, feeling a little awkward, but it was superfluous; she had already crouched down, and taken Hans' hand in hers very respectfully and introduced herself. Gerda had a way with children, with anybody, an ease that he lacked, and soon enough Hans was smiling. Later he was even persuaded to lay aside his new gloves, and after a while even the threadbare coat he wore, having been convinced that yes, it was indeed too warm for it indoors, and more importantly, that Gerda could be trusted with it.

As Hans ate, Kai took the pretext of setting up a bed for him to pull Gerda aside. "I'm sorry for – "

A crash came from the kitchen, making them both jump and cutting Kai off. Gerda handed him a bedsheet and a few blankets, and said, "Don't be absurd. The boy looks half starved to death. Of course you couldn't have left him there!" which made Kai feel somewhat ashamed. He did not reply.

She went to see to the boy; he made the bed before joining them to find that Gerda had managed to make Hans smile.


End file.
